An Easy Man To Love
by susieq666
Summary: In which Horatio is badly hurt, and Calleigh gets rather more involved with him than she intended.
1. Chapter 1

AN EASY MAN TO LOVE

Chapter 1

Calleigh took the call. "Yes, H?"

Their boss's voice was weak and husky, though recognisable. "I need… you and Eric… process…"

"Are you all right?"

"I've been shot… I've called a bus…"

"Where are you? Is the perp still around? H, talk to me!"

"He's gone… Hispanic male…" He broke off, coughing, and she heard a whispered gasp of "Oh God…". Then he continued, "Green SUV…" He coughed again, and she heard the phone, still switched on, hit the ground.

"What on earth is it?" Eric was by her side.

"H. He's down. Shot. Come on!"

They got the location from ambulance control, who confirmed they had a vehicle on the way, and then tracked Horatio's cell phone. With Eric driving insanely fast, siren screaming, they got there before the ambulance. Calleigh sprinted up the alleyway. Horatio was on the ground, kneeling, slumped against a wall for support. He was conscious, though barely, one hand over a bloodstained patch on his shirt. Calleigh threw herself at his side.

He whispered faintly, "That… was quick…" He broke off, coughing, and she felt his blood spatter her shirt. She realised he was choking on his own blood and that, had he not had the strength to stay partially upright, he would probably be dead by now. There was a trickle of blood from his nose and mouth. Gently lifting his hand away, Calleigh peeled back his shirt, to uncover a single bullet wound, in his left chest, but mercifully lower than his heart. The blood flow was minimal, but she knew how misleading that was. The man was bleeding out.

"H, hang in there…" Eric was also kneeling beside them. "Bus'll be here in a minute."

The voice was a faint gasp. "Can't… breathe…"

"I know, sweetheart." Calleigh slipped one arm round him. "You've got a chest full of blood. Just hang on… a few minutes…" There was nothing she could do now, except to try to keep him conscious.

He slumped into her body, his head resting on her shoulder. She bent and kissed the top of his head, then gently lifted the back of his jacket. Underneath, the shirt was soaked. She looked at Eric and murmured, "Through and through."

She could feel his struggle to draw breath, but she could also feel him going under. She kept her fingers lightly on his carotid pulse. It was uneven and faint, and she was fully prepared to have to do cardiac massage. She wanted to hug him, to physically pull him back from the edge.

"H," she said urgently. "Wake up, stay with me."

In the distance, they heard sirens.

Eric murmured, "About time."

"H, look at me!" Calleigh put her hand under his chin to tilt his head. "Look at me. Keep looking at me."

The dark blue eyes were almost closed, the face bloodless, but, oddly, a faint smile flickered on his mouth. "Always… a… pleasure… ma'am." Then his head fell back onto her shoulder, and she felt the warmth of his blood seeping through her shirt. She was suddenly aware of tears streaming down her face.

At the end of the alleyway, an ambulance screeched to a halt, and two paramedics ran to them. Eric stood up, but Calleigh remained crouched, holding the now unconscious Horatio in her arms.

Eric, his voice shaking, gave them chapter and verse. "Looks like a single gunshot, through and through, lower chest, big internal blood loss. He can hardly breathe but he was just about conscious until a minute ago…"

They took him gently from Calleigh's arms. And saw the badge and ID on his belt.

One said quietly, "Good God…"

"Didn't you know?"

"No, we were just told gunshot, male victim. Not who it was."

"Would it have made a difference?"

"Might have. We'd have had an escort. But we came as quickly as we could."

Calleigh stood up now, her clothes blood splashed, and both watched as they got him quickly, even roughly, onto a stretcher. "Sorry, ma'am, but he's almost gone," and they rushed him to the ambulance.

Eric touched her shoulder. "Go with him. I'll escort. Is it Dade General?"

She got into the ambulance, while Eric watched from the back door, trying to keep out of the way of the paramedics as they worked with a desperate urgency that precluded finesse. They slashed jacket and shirt away, revealing the innocuous-looking wound. One inserted a line into a vein at his elbow, linked up a bag of saline, then connected him to a monitor. He watched the readings settle, shook his head, and immediately carried out the same procedure on the other arm. Then he half lifted him, located the wound in his back, and stuffed gauze packing into it.

Calleigh could read a monitor perfectly well, but all her brain registered was a weak and erratic heartbeat.

The second paramedic meanwhile was siphoning blood from Horatio's throat. It splashed at her feet on the floor of the vehicle, while the paramedic tried to get a tube in. It took him three attempts, but then he hooked up a bag and took over the failing breathing.

"Right, Bill," he said to his partner. "Let's go. As fast as you can."

One man leapt into the driving-seat as Eric slammed the back doors shut. The remaining paramedic looked at Calleigh, who was weeping with shock. "He's not gone yet, ma'am."

"No, I'm sorry."

He looked at the monitor again. "Can you squeeze that fluid in for me?"

"Of course." She stood up as the vehicle moved off, fast. She could hear the Hummer's siren, loud in front of them. She staggered, grabbing a shelf.

The paramedic said quickly, "Whatever you do, don't fall on him. Just squeeze the fluid in… Like kneading dough. Or milking a cow…"

She smiled weakly. "How long…?"

"How long, Bill?" he called to his partner.

"Not more than fifteen minutes. Maybe less. Your partner's got some balls - he's punching through red lights, and he's got a patrol car helping him now. How's the patient?"

"Not good, pal, not good. So fast as you can."

As if to confirm it, the monitor's bleeping faltered, then turned to a steady whine as it flat lined.

The paramedic yelled to his colleague, "Pull over, Bill! We're losing him!"

The ambulance pulled to a grinding halt at the kerb and the driver leapt into the back. They slapped two pads onto Horatio's chest.

"OK, clear." One of them physically held Calleigh away from the body as the other sent a shock through the reluctant heart. "Come _on_, lieutenant!" he snapped. "You are not dying in _my_ ambulance!"

Eric opened a front door and peered through from the cab. He said nothing.

"OK. Go again. Clear…" Again the shock went through him, lifting him slightly from the bed. The monitor bleeped, hesitated, then settled into a more regular rhythm. "Right, go!"

Both Eric and the driver rushed to their respective seats, and they moved off again, three sets of sirens now splitting the air, and the traffic.

Calleigh let out a sound between a sob and a sort of hysterical laugh. "May I touch him?"

"Yes. Gently. Here, take over the breathing. I'll do the fluids."

They changed places, and Calleigh found she could keep squeezing oxygen into him, while stroking his face and hair with her free hand. She whispered, "Oh, H… hang on… please…"

"Do you have his blood group?"

"On his ID." She leant over and pulled it off his belt. "A positive." She put the ID into her pocket.

The paramedic called to his partner. "Tell them we need A positive blood, lots of it. And tell them who it is."

"They know," he called back.

"Eric." Calleigh smiled. "Will _that_ make a difference?"

"It might. He'll get top priority." The paramedic, balanced against the vehicle's motion, was squeezing the saline in from both bags. "He's got hardly any blood pressure. That's quite a blood loss from a single bullet. You said he was conscious?"

"Yes, and talking. Just. You know he called you himself?"

"Wow. Tough guy."

"He is."

"I think he'll have to be."

"I know it's a bad one. Large calibre, through and through… But it missed his heart, thank God…" She smiled wanly. "I'm his ballistics expert."

"So I imagine the tears aren't from seeing a bullet wound?"

"No. Pretty used to that. Just… not in him." She looked at the paramedic and shrugged slightly. "It's not what you think. I do love him, but not like that. He's just very very special."

"Good boss?"

"Absolutely the best."

They pulled into the hospital, and he was rushed away from her. The paramedic she had been talking to took her hand quickly. "I really hope he makes it."

She nodded her thanks, and went into the hospital to wait. She had barely sat down before Eric joined her. "How is he?"

She shook her head. "It's bad, Eric. He's alive, just. At least we got him here." She felt the tears starting again.

Eric put his arm round her. "Don't, Cal…"

"It's just shock. They've so nearly killed him, Eric."

"'Nearly'," Eric said firmly. "He's as tough as anyone I know."

She numbly sipped the coffee Eric had brought. "You did a good job as escort - we were shifting."

"It was odd," he mused. "I hardly saw the other traffic, just the road ahead, and the ambulance behind me. It was as if there was nothing else. Just Horatio, and where he needed to be."

She nodded. "I suppose we should go and process the scene."

"No. I'll go if you think I should, but one of us has to stay with him."

"I'd rather we both stayed." Calleigh swallowed hard. "If he dies, I don't think I can bear it."

"OK. We'll both stay."

It was two more coffees and nearly three hours later, before a doctor came to find them. He looked so grave that Calleigh's hand flew to her mouth.

"No, not that," he said quickly. "He's still with us."

"Oh, thank God."

"We've got him stabilized at last. We had to put a lot of blood through him before his pressure started to come up. We've got a drain in his lung, and we've patched up a hell of a big hole in his back. He's got a cracked rib, but that's no big deal. In some ways he's been quite lucky. His lung's pretty messed up, and the bullet nicked his liver, but it missed a lot of other vital organs. His heart's clear - it was struggling trying to pump with so little blood, but there's no damage - and his spine's clear."

"He'll be OK?"

"Too early to say that, ma'am. But, for now, I'm cautiously hopeful."

"Can I see him?"

"You can, but there's nothing to see. He's in intensive care, he's on a ventilator, and he's unconscious. I'm going to keep him like that for a few days, and see if the lung will start to heal itself. As long as his blood pressure stays off the floor, we may be OK."

"Just a quick look," Calleigh begged.

The doctor smiled then, and led them through to ICU. He pointed through a window. Calleigh found herself smiling at a glimpse of the unmistakeable auburn hair.

"OK," she said. She caught Eric's hand. "Let's go and catch whoever did this to him." She turned back to the doctor. "Can I take his clothes?"

The doctor went away and returned with a bag. Calleigh opened it briefly. The coppery smell of blood wafted out, but also a faint but recognisable smell of Horatio. She knew he never wore cologne or aftershave, but there was something… Maybe soap or shampoo…

"There wasn't a gun, was there?" she asked.

"No, no gun."

She nodded and refolded the bag, turning back to Eric. "Scene or lab first?"

"I think you should get changed first. And everyone at the lab will have heard. We need to go back there."

"You're right." She plucked the fabric of her shirt away from her shoulder, where his blood had stuck it to her skin.

They entered the lab together. It seemed everyone knew. Even the receptionist stopped to ask how Horatio was. "Hanging on," Eric said briefly. He'd save any details for H's own team.

Calleigh managed to reach the locker room without meeting anyone. She had just removed her blood-soaked shirt when Natalia came in. She picked up the shirt and murmured, "Oh Calleigh…"

Calleigh said nothing as she pulled on another shirt, over the blood stains that still remained on her bra and on her skin. She looked down at her pants, but they were dark, and the blood didn't show. Good enough to face everyone.

Natalia was still holding the shirt. "Is this evidence?"

"No, only of Horatio trying to die in my arms."

"He's not dead?" Natalia's hand flew to her face.

"No, sorry, that was a terrible thing to say. No, we got him to the hospital. He's alive, but very ill. Come on, we'd better see the others."

Eric, Calleigh and Natalia went towards the layout room, collecting the team on the way.

Eric said quietly to Calleigh, "Do you want me to do this?"

"No, I will." Looking round to see that everyone was there, she said, "You've all heard by now that Horatio was shot today. It was a bad wound, in the chest, but he managed to call for help. Eric and I were there first, but the ambulance quickly took over. He'd lost a lot of blood. His heart had to be restarted on the way in." She forced a smile. "Now the better news. We got him to hospital alive, and they've now stabilized him. He's in ICU and very ill, but still with us."

There was a collective release of held breath, and a few smiles and comments.

She added, "He won't be visitable for a while. I'll let you know when he is. I believe I'm nominated as his deputy." No one seemed surprised, since she was the most senior. "Now, Eric and I broke protocol big time by leaving the crime scene unattended, so if anyone feels like reporting that, go ahead. There was no way H was going to ride alone, and Eric did a wonderful job clearing the traffic by providing an escort. We may have lost evidence, but we may just have saved his life." No one disagreed. In fact there was a burst of requests to go to the crime scene now. "Eric and I are going back now. The rest of you get on with your cases here. He'd want you to. I promise I will let you know if there's any news."

Eric whispered, "Well done."

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	2. Chapter 2

AN EASY MAN TO LOVE

Chapter 2

They drove back to the alleyway together. It seemed to be a relatively unused passage, and everything looked the same. They knew very well that any evidence they found would probably not stand up in court, but it might give them a starting point. Calleigh went straight to the blood patch on the ground by the wall.

"We can assume it's all H's, but we'd better sample it." Her voice was steady now.

Eric took swabs, then they carefully searched the ground around it. He said suddenly, "Take a look at this."

'This' was a gravitational blood drop, a short way away.

"I doubt that's H's…" he said, taking a swab. "We're going to have to make some assumptions. H was facing down the alley… Unless he was spun right round…"

Calleigh shook her head. "That's not likely. I would think it dropped him on the spot."

"So the shooter was further down…"

They walked carefully down the alley, scanning everything.

"Another blood drop… look…"

"Well, that's definitely not H's."

They did not find a cartridge, or anything else to point to the shooter's position.

"What about the bullet itself?" Eric mused.

"True… He might not have known it was a through and through."

They went back to the place where Horatio had fallen. Calleigh stared at it.

"You OK?" Eric asked.

"Just thinking… If the shooter was down the alley… Both standing… The trajectory looked slightly downwards, but he's cracked a rib, so it could have ricocheted downwards…"

"But the bullet would have travelled further up… Towards the road…"

"It could have clipped the wall, or the ground… It wouldn't have a lot of power left…"

It took them two hours, searching every crack in the wall, the ground, and all the various detritus left in the alley, but they found it. A single fairly mangled bullet, lodged in a crack between wall and ground. Calleigh held it between thumb and forefinger. It still had a trace of blood and tissue on it.

"I think it's a 38."

"Big bullet."

"It had to be. Look, there's a tiny fibre on it." Calleigh put it carefully into an evidence bag.

"We'll match it to H easily enough. Can we match it to a perp, that's the question…"

They went on searching, but there was nothing else. No weapons, neither the 38 nor H's 9mm. After four hours at the scene, they headed back to the lab. On the way, Calleigh called the hospital, but the report was 'no change'.

At the lab, Calleigh said, "I'm going to work on this bullet. Can you do the bloods?"

Eric nodded.

"What happened to his phone?"

"It's in my pocket - I'll see what his last calls were. And I'll start on his clothes… if that's OK…"

"I'll come and help you later. And Eric… take it slowly. If ever a crime had to be solved, it's this one."

"I know that." Eric glanced at his watch.

"It's late. Go, if you like."

"No, I'll make a start."

It was nine in the evening before Calleigh called it a day. The night shift was already in. She didn't know how word travelled, but everyone seemed to know about Horatio. Some of them wanted to talk about it, but she didn't want to, not yet. Even more, they wanted to help, but she refused, feeling that the evidence should stay within H's team. She had processed the bullet. It had, as she had expected, H's DNA on it, as well as minute navy-blue fibres, which would almost certainly match his suit. If there had been a fingerprint, it had gone after passing through the body. The 38 had come from a gun used in an armed robbery some three years earlier, for which two men were serving time. It wasn't much of a lead. The gun could have changed hands many times since then.

She stretched the stiffness out of her shoulders and walked down to find Eric. "Have you got anything?"

"Not a lot. The blood we assumed was H's, is. The drops are from an unidentified male - at least, the DNA's not on file. Might be nothing to do with the shooting at all."

"Too much of a co-incidence."

"I agree. There was a call to his cell, just before he went out, but it was from a disposable. I'll get Dave to see if he can find out more… tomorrow. I haven't really got onto his clothes. I've put them in the drying room. They're a real mess, of course…"

They called it a day. There was no word from the hospital.

By the next day, Calleigh had collected her thoughts a little. She had been almost overwhelmed by shock the day before. Prior to starting work, she made a visit to Human Resources. Horatio had no near relatives, as far as she was aware. She needed to know things she'd rather not ask. Like… if he didn't recover… She was afraid her composure would crack as she faced the stern-faced woman at the desk.

"I'm Calleigh Duquesne." She produced her ID for scrutiny. "I need you to access Horatio Caine's personnel records."

"I'm not sure I can do that."

"Yes, you can. I'm his deputy. He's in hospital after a shooting. He…" She hesitated and took a deep breath. "He may not live."

"I'm very sorry." The woman's face softened slightly. "I'd heard he was one of the good guys."

"_Is _one of the good guys." She hurried on, before she broke down. "I don't need his whole file. Just who he's nominated to make… medical decisions and such… if necessary."

The woman tapped a few keys, then looked up. "You, Miss Duquesne."

"_Me?_"

"Yes, it's quite clear. There's actually no next-of-kin named, but you are his proxy to make all decisions for him, professional and personal, should he be incapacitated."

"Oh gosh…" She had expected Eric… "Is there anything medical we need to know? Allergies? Anything?"

The woman scanned a page or two. "No, nothing."

"He's always been pretty healthy." She smiled wanly. "Thank you."

"Good luck. I really hope he makes it."

She returned to the lab. She decided not to tell Eric about being appointed H's decision-maker. Work was one thing, but personal matters? Eric would be hurt, she knew. She wondered why H had done it.

Eric had the remnants of Horatio's clothes laid out on the table. Everything had been cut from his body. A beautiful designer suit and a silk shirt were little more than bloody rags. Even the belt had been cut. The holster was empty. She had taken the ID off in the ambulance.

"Where's his badge?"

Eric said quietly, "In the safe. With his wallet, keys… a few coins… Nothing on them but H…"

"Anything on the clothes?"

"Blood… Mostly his. But I did find a couple more of those blood drops - they match the ones in the alley."

"So the shooter stood over him?"

"And was bleeding…"

"Maybe H shot him." She frowned. "This doesn't make sense, Eric. If they wanted to kill him… and he was on the ground…"

"Why didn't they finish it?"

"Exactly."

"Just a warning, maybe?"

"Hardly. That was no warning shot. They came too close to killing him."

"Then perhaps they thought they'd done the job."

"I don't know. It's certainly not a professional hit." She gave a rueful smile. "Thank God."

"We need to talk to H."

"That won't be just yet. That's if he even remembers. You know what trauma can do."

"I suppose he might not remember you called him 'sweetheart'."

Despite it being Eric, she blushed slightly. "The man was dying in my arms…"

"I know. And I'm teasing. No way would he mind…"

"Did you hear what he said? Dying, and still making compliments?"

For five long days, Horatio lay unconscious in hospital. But he was surviving. Meanwhile, their case was a series of dead-ends. The history of the gun seemed untraceable. As did the owner of the blood drops. The call to H's cell yielded only that it had been made from the area of the alley where they had found him. Their only hope seemed to be input from Horatio himself. And that still seemed a long way off.

On the Sunday evening, Calleigh decided to visit him. She had stayed away, because there was no change, and it upset her to think of him still in such critical condition. And she had been busy, trying desperately to find leads where there seemed to be none. Now, exhausted, frustrated, and in need of inspiration, she walked into the quiet calm of ICU. In his room, the only sound was the bleep of monitors, the gentle hiss of the ventilator. Despite the tubes and equipment, she found herself surprisingly comforted by seeing him, bandaged chest rising and falling; his face, pale but peculiarly serene and undoubtedly alive, even a slight tremor in the dark auburn eyelashes.

Calleigh looked at his nurse. "May I touch him?"

She smiled and nodded. "He's not that deeply unconscious. He may react."

She laid a hand on his cheek. He was warm, and, she smiled, carrying a week's worth of red-gold stubble. She moved her fingers into his hair and stroked it, whispering, "Oh, H… Can you hear me?" There was no reaction, not that she had expected there to be. "Come back to us…" She turned to the nurse. "How's he doing?"

"Doing well, I believe. Boyfriend?"

Calleigh smiled. "No. Boss. I'm his deputy."

"Wow, wish I had a boss like that."

She looked back at him. "They threw away the mold after they made this one."

The nurse spoke again. "Dr. Humphries is in. Unusual on a Sunday, but he was called in. Would you like a word, if he's got time?"

"I would."

The nurse went to the phone and spoke quietly into it, then said, "Just caught him. He'll come in."

The doctor was smiling when arrived. "Well, he's a tough man. I can't believe how well he's recovering."

"Is he?"

"Oh yes. I don't want to tempt fate, but he's really not had a hitch."

"So the coma… The ventilator..?"

"We've kept him like that, because the lung seems to be healing itself. He's lying still, out of pain, and his breathing's shallow - deliberately - to give it every chance. We were thinking of taking him off the ventilator tomorrow, and waking him up. Do you want to be here?"

"Oh, please."

"There's a chance he may not breathe on his own, in which case we'll have to wait longer…"

"I understand."

"And, strong as he is, even if it goes to plan, he's still very ill. He won't be on his feet for a while."

She nodded. "Just get him back to us."

She was unaccountably nervous, watching the doctors and nurses round him the next morning. They had already removed some of the tubes.

"Right, lieutenant," she heard the doctor say. "Let's see just how this poor lung's healed."

She watched him switch off the ventilator and gently remove the breathing tube. Horatio's lower lip was bruised and swollen. There was silence… silence… then a decidedly shaky breath. Everyone let out their own held breath and there were murmurs of relief. The doctor quickly examined his chest with a stethoscope, then stood up and nodded.

"Right, let's wake him up." He injected something into the canula in Horatio's arm, then beckoned Calleigh to the bedside. "Come and say hello to him."

He came to slowly. His mouth twitched, lips coming firmly together, despite the bruising. He moved his head slightly and his eyes flickered open. The flash of dark blue brought tears to Calleigh's eyes. He blinked, frowned, then focussed on her face.

She bent close to him and whispered, "Welcome back, H."

He tried to say something, found he couldn't, and raised his eyebrows slightly.

"You can't talk. You've had a tube down your throat for nearly a week. Oh God, it's good to see you again…" She bent down and pressed her lips to his cheek. She felt, rather than heard, him breathe her name.

"OK, enough for now," Dr. Humphries said. "We need to check him over."

Calleigh retreated to a chair in the corner, and wept with sheer relief. When the doctor came over, he was smiling.

"Don't cry for him now. He's doing well. He'll sleep today, but it will be a natural sleep. He'll stay on pain-relief and antibiotics, but we should be able to move him from ICU. Come and see him tomorrow."

"I'll get the police department to put a guard on him in case someone wants to finish the job. And all his team will want to visit, I expect."

"Give him a couple of days. Then they can, one at a time, with a promise to keep him very quiet. Oh, and anyone with coughs, sneezes, stomach bugs, anything - stay away. He's got no resistance to anything for now, and he couldn't tolerate an infection."

She nodded. "I'll make it clear."

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	3. Chapter 3

AN EASY MAN TO LOVE

Chapter 3

Calleigh hurried back the next day. There was still little to go on in his shooting. There were no leads on the gun, and the identity of the shooter remained a mystery - who would take on the shooting of a senior cop, despite apparently having no previous convictions? And then botch the job? It made no sense.

She stood outside the room with the doctor, watching through the glass, while an armed police guard stood nearby. She had already had to prove her identity to him, and had congratulated him on doing his job.

"You check everyone, you understand?" she had said. "Even a doctor or nurse you don't recognise - if anyone gets awkward, refer them to me."

"I will, ma'am." He had hesitated. "Lieutenant Caine… Is he going to be all right?"

"Well, it's looking better than a few days ago."

Horatio was propped up, almost on his side, a pillow supporting his back.

"Is he comfortable like that?"

The doctor nodded. "He's on heavy pain relief, so he's pretty comfortable whatever. We need to get at the wound in his back. He needs a graft, though he says he doesn't care what it looks like."

"Can he talk?"

"He can whisper. His throat's dry and bruised, but he can take sips of water. You want to question him, I imagine."

"I have to."

"OK, but go easy. And he may not remember much. Delayed shock often wipes the worst bits, at least temporarily, though he's surprisingly lucid, considering."

She replaced her worried frown with a smile, went in, and sat down beside the bed. "Morning, H. How are you?"

"OK. Can't move yet," he whispered.

"You know I need to ask you some questions."

He closed his eyes briefly in acknowledgement.

"I'll try to make it quick. And if it's too much, stop me. First of all, why were you there?"

"Informant called… Jesus Delgado… Look him up… Wanted a meeting…"

"You went alone."

"Trusted him."

"And when you got there?"

"Alley empty. Felt wrong…" He gasped and tried to swallow.

Calleigh picked up a glass of water and put the straw to his mouth. "Do you want to stop?"

"No, it's OK." He drew a shaky breath. "Man came into the alley…"

"Did you know him?"

"I don't think so… It's very hazy from then on."

"Tell me what you do remember, if you can…"

"He didn't speak. Shot me from about twenty yards… Big bullet? Knocked me over."

"A 38."

He nodded.

"Had you got your gun drawn?"

"Yes. I think I got a shot off… Can't remember…"

"Go on." She wanted to stop. She could see the strain in his face. But she needed information.

"I remember him standing over me." He paused for some more water. "I thought it was the kill shot… but he walked away…"

"OK… That's enough for now…"

"I'm all right. I just don't remember much else. I think I tried to get up. After that… I just tried to stay conscious… and get help." He closed his eyes, with a small shudder of pain or shock.

She stroked his hair. "No more, I mean it. Rest now…" She sat back and watched him, watched the struggle to come through the horror of it.

At last, he opened his eyes and forced a smile. "Useless witness, eh?" He was breathless, and stopped talking abruptly, taking her hand instead.

Calleigh stayed a little longer, then squeezed his hand, kissed his forehead, and left, passing a new police guard on the way out. This was an older man, who immediately said, "Don't worry, ma'am, nobody will get to him while I'm here. I remember him when he was on the bomb squad. Brave man."

"He still is."

Back at the lab, she was stopped by Eric. "How is he?"

"Not too bad. Very weak."

"Talking?"

"Just."

"Can he remember it?"

"Quite a lot, but he's hazy. He thinks he got a shot off."

"What about a description of the perp?"

"It may come back, but he's too ill to push it at the moment. I had to stop. He did give me a name - an informant he was supposed to meet. Jesus Delgado. He said to look him up."

"But he's not the shooter?"

"I don't think so." Calleigh typed the name into a computer. "Ah, one of H's charity cases."

"How so?"

"He occasionally puts his mind to sorting out one of the street kids… Get them on the straight and narrow. Jesus looks like a success story. He's 24. He was 13 when H took him up, he's been a CI ever since. No wonder H trusted him - he phoned to set up the meeting."

"And tricked H into an ambush."

"Seems unlikely. Our boss is a good judge of character. Maybe Jesus was forced into it. I'll get Frank to pick him up, if he hasn't gone to ground…"

"Thought I might go and see H tomorrow. I can ask him some more."

"Go easy on him, won't you?"

"Of course I will!" Eric laughed. "What do you think I'm going to do? Give him the third degree?"

"We need some answers. But he's very weak."

"Calleigh, I love him too. I'll be very gentle with your injured cub."

She smiled at him, puzzled. "Cub?"

"Well, you've been like a lioness, protecting him. Not that I blame you…"

She didn't answer him, but picked up the phone to talk to Frank, asking him to find Jesus Delgado. Eric was studying Jesus's details. He frowned, pressed a few keys, then said excitedly, " Hey, Cal, look at this." He had two DNA records up. And a familial match.

"Same family. Not that close… Cousins, maybe… Who are they?"

"One's Jesus. The other's our blood drops, our shooter."

"Wow. Have we just got a break, Eric?"

"Maybe. If we can find Jesus."

"Well, Frank's on the case." She looked thoughtful. "Eric, how much about H is public knowledge?"

He picked up her thoughts immediately. "You mean, does whoever shot him know they didn't kill him? Does Jesus?"

"Exactly."

"Well, it was in the news that he'd been rushed to hospital, condition critical…"

She nodded. "I was just wondering how Jesus feels if he thinks he's responsible for his mentor's death."

"Could you play that? If we bring him in?"

"Definitely," she said. "After what I saw in that ambulance…"

Eric put his arm round her shoulders. "He's a strong brave man, Cal. You know he'll make it."

She didn't reply.

They found Jesus floating in the bay, a shot in his head.

"Suicide?" Eric asked, recalling their previous conversation.

"Don't think so, no contact burns… Maybe shot, for messing up the hit?"

"But you still don't think he was the shooter?"

"Not from what H said."

"You said he was confused."

"Not confused. Hazy. But he'd recognise his CI." She slid the bullet taken from Jesus's head under the microscope and ran comparisons. A match came up.

"Same gun?" Eric asked.

"No, it's H's."

"Well, it proves the connection, at least."

"Doesn't get us to the shooter."

Calleigh's cell phone bleeped. She pulled it out, and Eric saw her blanch. "What?"

"It's the hospital."

"Do you want me to answer it?"

She shook her head, took a deep breath and spoke, her voice shaking slightly, "Calleigh Duquesne."

It was Horatio's doctor. She didn't give him a chance to speak. "Is he OK?"

"He's fine. Or he would be, if he'd calm down. He said I had to tell you something he's just remembered."

Her relief was such, she barely heard him. "Should I come in?"

"No. He's having his back treated. I promised to call you for him. He was quite insistent." He chuckled.

"What did he want to tell us?"

"He said, 'Tell Calleigh I was carrying my back-up weapon.'"

"Say that again."

He repeated it.

"Thank you, doctor. Tell him I got the message." She ended the call and turned to Eric. "Message from H. He was carrying his back-up."

"Unusual."

"Point is, we haven't found it."

"No."

"Nor even the holster, Eric! The shooter must have taken the lot."

"Well, it's easier to unclip an ankle holster… What are you thinking, Cal?"

"That we may have missed something. Fingerprints? He might have just picked up the 9mm, but he had to unfasten the other one."

"Why would he take it?"

"I don't know. Maybe he wanted it for himself. It's a real neat little gun, that one."

"So… fingerprints… where? Maybe his shoe? His pants? Although the medics were all over him…"

"Wearing gloves."

They went back to the clothes. It was hard to get a print off fabric at the best of times, let alone when it had been handled so much. They drew a blank. Calleigh thoughtfully pulled out Horatio's right shoe. She hadn't really looked at it before. Having found their shooter in the blood drops, she hadn't done the basics. Now she was guiltily aware that her investigative skills weren't up to scratch. Whether it was Horatio's absence, or the shock of what had happened, she didn't know.

"What are you thinking?" Eric asked.

"That I should have done this before. I don't know what's the matter with me…"

"I do. It's lying in Dade General," he said seriously. "Anyway, it was both of us. I just can't concentrate with him not here."

"We have to. I'm just not thinking clearly… We've got a suspect's DNA, but no ID… A lead with Jesus, but he's dead… And we've got three weapons out there - the 38, and both of H's. We know the shooter's related to Jesus… And we haven't had any hospital reports of gunshot victims… Have we?"

"I don't think so. I'll double-check. Do you think H is well enough to give a description?"

"The doctor says he's OK. He just doesn't remember. Or he didn't. I'll keep asking…" Calleigh was turning the black shoe over between two fingers, as she spoke. "This is odd…"

"What?"

"There's a sort of shoe print on the top of this shoe."

"It was probably dropped on the floor at the hospital."

"But hospital workers all wear those covers on their feet. This is more like a boot."

"So someone trod on his foot?"

"Maybe to keep him still while they took the holster off."

"Well, it's a bit more evidence." He took the shoe from her. "I'll see what I can do with it. And maybe there's a fingerprint… We have more fingerprint records than DNA ones - we might get lucky."

Calleigh went back to see Horatio that evening. Whatever they had been doing to his back had left him sore and uncomfortable, though he was markedly more alert.

"How are you feeling?" she asked gently.

"Not bad. Fed up."

"I guess that's a good sign. Have you been out of bed yet?"

"Tomorrow, I believe. They don't reckon I can walk. We'll see."

She knew better than to argue with him. "How's your back?"

"A lot worse than before they started on it."

She smiled. "You know, you sound a lot more like yourself. It's good to hear."

He smiled faintly. "Caught my shooter yet?"

"No." She told him how far they'd got.

"And Jesus is dead? I'm sorry. He was a good kid."

"H… He nearly got you killed."

"There has to be more to it. He wouldn't have done that, unless he was forced…"

"How's your memory?"

He shook his head. "I wish I could say crystal-clear, but it's not. I can see the guy in general, but not his face…"

"You said a Hispanic male…"

"I thought so. Light-skinned though. Tall… six foot… Thin. Jeans, t-shirt… Just nothing specific. Or useful… And yet, he stood right over me. I _must_ have seen his face!"

"Your memory's blocking it, that's all. What about the green SUV?"

"I might have been wrong. It might have nothing to do with it. Sorry, Calleigh, it's still all a bit mixed up."

"It's OK, my love, you're doing well." For the first time, she saw him raise his eyebrows slightly at the endearment, and added quickly, "Sorry, H. It's just…It all got a bit emotional back there…"

"I remember."

"You do?"

"I remember you crying, and I thought 'I really am dying then'."

"You were."

"But I didn't, thanks to you and Eric."

"And two paramedics, and umpteen doctors… Do you remember the ambulance ride?"

"No. The last memory I have is your perfume…"

She sniffed back tears. "Don't. You old romantic, you…"

Page


	4. Chapter 4

AN EASY MAN TO LOVE

Chapter 4

Calleigh wondered if she was getting just too close to him. She knew there was gossip, though she thought her position as his deputy gave her every excuse to see him so often. And he seemed to like it. She was reasonably pragmatic about it - if it all changed when he was back at work, then it did. She could handle that. But she suspected, even so, that she was falling in love with him. After working with him for nine years, developing deep respect, admiration, and, yes, love for him, the events of the last weeks had intensified her feelings. Perhaps it was inevitable, given what had happened. She still, in her quiet moments, and sometimes at night, felt the weight of his traumatised body in her arms, his blood seeping through her clothes, and his weak, dying heartbeat. Sometimes the tears would start again, and she had to jolt herself back to the reality, that he was, in fact, getting better.

A day or so later, a new and urgent case took their attention, and H's shooting was, reluctantly, shuffled into second place. In any case, they had no new leads, and H's memory was still too hazy to provide further assistance. They had, in fact, found a partial print on the shoe, but too partial for identification. Eric had also managed to get part of a boot print. The evidence was mounting. All they needed was someone to match it to.

"You going to the hospital tonight?" Eric asked, as they worked together in the lab.

"I was. Why?"

He shrugged.

"No, if you've got a problem, Eric, tell me."

"It's your time. I just think…" He stopped. "It's none of my business."

"You think I'm spending too much time with him?"

"I think you've fallen in love with him."

"What if I have?"

"It won't work, Calleigh. He's your boss."

She was angry, but also defensive. "Do you think I don't know that?"

"I think you're going to get hurt. And… I think… it's a result of nearly losing him… And you being there."

"You think I need counselling or something?"

"Maybe you do."

"You were there too. Maybe _you_ do!" she snapped back.

"Maybe."

They were both silent for a while, carrying on with their work. Calleigh broke the silence. "I don't really understand it, Eric. I've known him a long time. I've always loved him, as a friend and as my boss."

"He's an easy man to love."

"He is. The difference is, at the moment, he's not the boss. He's just a very hurt, fragile man. And I guess my feelings are a bit… distorted." She smiled ruefully. "I'm still going to see him tonight."

She did, and found him out of bed, sitting in a chair. He looked white and in pain. She pulled up another chair and sat down. "How long have you been up?"

"Couple of hours." He was tired and unsmiling.

"Not good?"

"Hard. Harder than I expected."

"Are you in pain?"

"Some. They said I should expect it. It'll go as I get stronger."

For the first time, he didn't want to talk. She wasn't sure he even wanted her there. "So how long are you staying up?"

"Up to me. They said I should decide."

"So you're toughing it out…"

"It's what I do."

"I know that. Don't be too hard on yourself. You look exhausted."

"Mmm."

"Do you want me to go?"

He shook his head briefly. He seemed so remote from her today, fighting his own battles, that she didn't even feel she could take his hand.

At last, she said quietly, "Can I do anything for you? Bring anything in?"

"No, thank you." He focussed on her properly. "I'm sorry, Calleigh… Better tomorrow…"

"I know."

He forced a faint smile. "Come on, give me a hug."

She stood up and slipped both arms round him. She realised, with a shock, how much thinner he was.

He put his arms lightly round her, and rubbed her back. "You go," he said quietly. "I'm no company today."

She kissed the top of his head, and left. She ran into Dr. Humphries in the hallway. She must have looked worried, because he stopped her. "He's all right, you know. Just being stubborn."

"He's very tired."

"I'm just going to get him back into bed. He's already been up about twice as long as I expected."

He was better the next day. He had graduated to a wheelchair, and, though he was barely strong enough to move it, he clearly viewed it as a triumph. His progress was fast, as fast as his huge will-power could make it. Calleigh knew he was causing himself much more pain and tiredness than he needed, but, as he had said, it was what he did. It worried her, but the doctor reassured her.

"We're keeping a close eye, but it's how he wants it. Nobody's making him work that hard. But no, he's not doing himself any harm." He chuckled. "He says he'll be walking by the end of the week. Having seen how he operates, I've little doubt he will."

And Calleigh found her emotions settling down a little. With Horatio apparently out of danger, she found she could mentally 'stand back' from him. In fact, she felt she had to. She no longer felt quite as comfortable touching him, or kissing him… He hadn't mentioned it, and lately, he hadn't invited it, which left her feeling just slightly awkward, although he never seemed less than pleased to see her.

His memory of the shooting had not cleared. Given the lack of other leads, they had gone back to the connection with Jesus Delgado. Frank and his detectives had done everything they could to compile a list of all his male relatives, and to track each of them down. There were many gaps. Most of the family had an unhappy relationship with the police, and co-operation was conspicuously lacking. However, armed with mug shots of all those they had identified, Calleigh made another visit to Horatio.

"I hoped someone might jog your memory…" She handed him the photos. She thought he looked tired. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. Just so tired and fed up… You know, I can't even walk as far as that door and back?"

She smiled sympathetically. "It'll take time."

"Far too long. I'm bored." He went slowly through the mug shots, occasionally hesitating, before shaking his head, and moving to the next.

"Nothing?"

"No eureka moment…" He returned to one of the shots. "Something about this guy…" He stared at the photo. "But he's what? Forty? My guy was far younger…"

Calleigh took the photo from him and turned it over. "Alfredo. Jesus's uncle."

"Does he have a son?"

"No."

He took the photo back. "I don't know. There's something… Maybe I've come across him… Does he have a record?"

"Minor stuff. Years ago."

He shook his head again. "Sorry, Cal."

"Can you remember any more about it?"

"Brief flashes. Nothing useful. He took my other gun, didn't he?"

"You remember that?"

He nodded. "That's why I can't understand not remembering his face…"

"It could still come back. We'll keep trying."

They would, she just wasn't sure where to try. But, above all, she trusted Horatio's instincts. She took the uncle's mug shot back to Frank.

He sighed. "Dead end, Calleigh. The man's got a daughter. No sons."

"Can we double-check that? I mean, they'd hide him…? It's just the way Horatio reacted to that picture…"

"All right." Frank thought for a moment. "How old does H think the shooter was?"

"'Young', that's all he knows… Not a child… But he seemed to have a feeling this man could be the father… So, I don't know… twenty-ish? It's a very long shot, Frank, I know. But we've run out of leads."

"If it wasn't H, I'd say it was too long a shot… But… I'll have someone go through the birth records for, say, a five year period… See if Uncle Alfredo's been lying to us. Long shot, Calleigh, long shot… How's he doing, anyway?"

"He's bored, which is probably a good sign. Very weak still. I think it's taking longer than he expected."

"I miss him, you know…" Frank admitted. "He can be a royal pain in the butt…"

Calleigh chuckled. "But you still miss him."

While Frank worked on long shots and tenuous leads, the lab, inevitably, had to work on other cases. Then, unexpectedly, Horatio suffered his first setback. Calleigh took the call from Dr. Humphries.

"He's had a very rough day - I'm just warning you, if you're coming in tonight…"

"What's happened?"

"The lung's collapsed again, and, to be honest, I don't know why. He's got a drain in for now. And he's picked up a mild infection."

"He'll be OK though?"

"Oh yes. It's a shame, when he was doing so well, but these things happen. I'm just warning you… He's awake, but very quiet, and a bit miserable… Understandably."

He was. Obviously sedated, and too weary to do more than hold his hand out to her… She took it, then leaned forward and touched her lips to his face. He was hot, and she could hear the slight rasp in his breathing. She noticed tiny flecks of dried blood on his nostrils and lips. They didn't talk. She sat with his hand in hers, and watched him drift in and out of sleep. When he slept, she studied his face. The weight loss showed. It made him look younger, the cheekbones more pronounced. She felt the love he inspired in her rushing to the surface again. She sighed and looked away. Perhaps it was just the 'injured cub' syndrome. She smiled to herself.

"What are you smiling about?" The voice was soft and husky.

"I can't tell you that," she said gently. "How do you feel?"

"Ill."

"I know. Your doctor told me."

He nodded briefly and closed his eyes. Then she saw a hint of tears on his eyelashes. She reached for a tissue and gently dabbed them away.

"Don't," she murmured. "You'll get through this."

"Will I?" His eyes remained closed and his voice was completely without hope.

"Don't give up on us, H," she said softly. "We need you back."

He opened his eyes then. "I'm tired, Calleigh."

"I know."

"I don't mean this… I mean… I don't know… Everything."

"The job? The lab?"

"I don't know." He sighed, and almost coughed. "I'm not sure what I mean anymore."

"Because you're very sick… Come on, H… You nearly died…You're full of drugs… At the moment, you're feverish. Don't analyse it so much. Give yourself time."

He didn't reply, but closed his eyes again. Calleigh reached out to stroke his forehead. "Go to sleep, sweetheart. It'll be better tomorrow. Promise."

She sat in her car and sobbed. Logic told her he'd get over it, that he was merely reacting to yet more heavy medication, but she had never, even through all of this, seen him so defeated. Oh, he'd suffered for the job, more than most. He'd lost a wife, a colleague, a brother. Usually though, his pain came out as anger, a white hot fury that drove him to find and punish those responsible. Yet now, struggling under physical injuries, he seemed to be faltering. For the first time, she found herself considering the possibility that he might not come back. And she felt at least partly to blame - she was in charge, and they still seemed miles away from finding the shooter.

On an impulse, she called Eric. "Eric, can we meet?"

"Are you crying?"

"I was. I'm all right. But I need a drink. And I need to talk."

"Is it Horatio?"

"Sort of. I'll tell you, if you come."

They arranged to meet in a bar. Calleigh felt guilty. In view of their history, she knew she was using him. But Eric was a generous man and they were easy with each other, and, if anyone would understand, it was him.

Over drinks, he said immediately, " What's wrong?"

"Oh… H… me…" She took a deep breath. "We should have solved his shooting. _I _should have solved it. I'm letting him down."

"Did he say that?"

"Of course not. He never would. Anyway, he didn't say much at all today." She explained what had happened and how he'd been. "He upset me. I didn't know what to say to him. I know we always say 'hang on in there', but suppose it's not enough?"

Page


	5. Chapter 5

AN EASY MAN TO LOVE

Chapter 5

Eric was silent for a while before he replied, and appeared to choose his words carefully. "You may not believe me, but I know exactly how he's feeling. When I was shot… After several weeks in hospital, I completely lost my direction. I wasn't even sure I wanted to get well. Getting well meant going back to this job - which I love, by the way - and all I could see were the deaths and the dangers. Why should I do it? In a way, lying in hospital was easy. No responsibility. You don't even have to think. And your focus goes. Well, mine did." He stopped, seeming a little embarrassed at having revealed so much.

"I suppose I thought…"

He interrupted. "That Horatio wouldn't react like that? That he's so much tougher?"

"No, I don't mean that."

"He's as human as anyone, Cal. More so, probably."

"I've just never seen him like he was tonight. He's absolutely at rock bottom."

"Do you think you're underestimating just how ill he is?"

"Perhaps I am. He was getting on so well."

"And he will again."

She looked unconvinced.

Eric added, "I'll tell you something else. Yes, he was getting on well, almost too fast, and he's been knocked back down. It happened to me. Almost identical. I picked up some infection…"

"I remember."

"Well, I know how aggressively they treated it, and, once it went, and I was back on track, it was like an extra boost. I started improving much more quickly. I bet he's the same. He'll bounce back…"

"I'm sure you're right." She tried to smile. "I'm sorry. He's my injured cub, remember?"

"I know. And I _do_ understand."

"You're a good man, Eric."

They sat in silence for a while. Then Eric said, "I think I should see him tomorrow."

Calleigh was slightly taken aback. "Instead of me, you mean?"

"Hey, Calleigh, I don't want to take him away from you… It's just… Well, two things really… First and foremost, I _do_ know something of what he's going through, so maybe it might help him. And secondly - and don't snap my head off - you are very involved with him, and… perhaps… just a bit too emotional?"

She opened her mouth to protest, then shut it again.

Eric continued. "I'm not saying you shouldn't be. I'm just wondering if…God, you're going to hate me… if it's not quite what he needs right now."

"I'd never hate you, Eric. You really think I'm doing him more harm than good?"

"No! Nothing as serious as that! If it's harming anyone, it's harming you." He shook his head. "What do you think? Should I go in, while he's like this?"

"I can't stop you."

"I know, but that's not what I meant. I want to help him, and I don't want to hurt you."

She smiled then. "You haven't. Go and see him. You have got shared experiences. Let me know how he is though."

"Of course I will. And… regarding the shooting… why don't you work with Frank on it, and leave the rest of the lab to me? Just for a few days. You'd feel a lot better if we could crack the case. And so would he, I suspect."

She nodded. "All right. You talk a lot of sense, Eric. I needed to hear it." She smiled ruefully. "You know, I haven't shed so many tears for a long time. I hardly ever cry. Usually."

"It's just shock, Cal. You need to acknowledge it. Talk to someone. Talk to me, if you don't want to see a counsellor. It doesn't mean you're not a strong person."

"Obviously not as strong as I thought I was."

"Look, you watched Horatio dying in front of you… I mean, even more closely than me - I was concentrating on clearing the traffic. I suspect you were just wondering whether he'd get to the hospital alive. You shouldn't be surprised at how much it's affected you." He squeezed her hand. "I can see it's knocked you sideways. But… I don't mean to sound hard… crying over him isn't going to help, not at the moment. Work the case, Calleigh. Work it harder than you've worked any case ever. Give him what he deserves."

She nodded slowly.

Eric added. "Frank will do everything he can, you know. He'll even bend the rules if he needs to. He may not say much, but he and H go back a long way…"

She chuckled. "Frank called him a pain in the butt…"

"Nearest Frank will come to showing he cares. But he does, I promise you."

The next day, after a fairly sleepless night, she approached Frank again.

"Any progress?" she asked cautiously. The detective wasn't known for his patience with pushy CSIs.

"Have you any idea what a common name Delgado is?"

"I can guess."

"However… we might have something. We've found a birth record for a boy with a father listed as Alfredo Del Gado - two words - nineteen now, no criminal record, and the address doesn't tie in, although it's the same neighbourhood as our Alfredo."

"Is the mother's name the same?"

"I don't know. Ashamed to admit it, Calleigh, but we didn't take details of the females."

"But you'll check?"

Frank smiled thinly. "As we speak… And one of my detectives is from that area - he's doing a bit of nosing around… He's not as experienced as I'd like, but he blends in. We should be able to find out if this 'son' exists. Though he may not be our shooter, of course, even if he does. All we're going on is a hint of recognition from H."

"We've nothing much else to try."

"I'd love to toss that man's house - sure I could find something - but I'm damned if I can find an excuse for a warrant. As soon as I hear anything, I'll let you know. Slightest excuse, I'll have Alfredo in here." He sighed. "I don't know… We could be way off line here…"

"I know. I've got partials, DNA, ballistics… and no one to match it all to."

The big detective stood up. "Hell, Calleigh, it's Horatio. If it comes to it, I'll drag in every Delgado in the city and swab the lot of them! Now let me chase up my guy…"

Still the results were disappointing. The detective reported several young men going in and out of Alfredo's house, but the neighbours were either unco-operative or genuinely ignorant about the relationships. However, Mrs. Alfredo's name was Benita - as was the named mother on the birth record of Hector Ramone Delgado, aged nineteen.

"I'm calling the uncle in," Frank announced.

"On what excuse?" Calleigh asked.

"His duty as an upright citizen. Further inquiries into his nephew's shooting."

"Would you mind if I talked to his wife?"

"Woman to woman thing?"

"If you like."

Frank shrugged. "Go ahead."

Benita Delgado seemed nervous.

"I'm sorry about your nephew," Calleigh said gently. "Were you close?"

"He was a good boy."

"Did you see a lot of him?"

"He came here… But he was involved with a gang, you know? Alfredo tried to talk to him, but… he said he knew what he was doing… like all young men. And now he's dead." The woman looked nervously at the clock.

"Do you have to be somewhere?" Calleigh asked.

She shook her head.

Calleigh stood up and walked round the room. She looked at the photographs on the shelf. One caught her attention particularly. Alfredo with two young men, one of whom she recognised as the body in their morgue.

"This is Jesus?"

Benita nodded.

"And the other boy?"

"My… other nephew…"

"Is he involved with gangs?"

She nodded. "I think so."

"What's his name?"

"Hector. He's away… working…" She glanced at the clock again.

And Calleigh heard the lie. She dearly wanted to take the photograph, but could think of no possible excuse to ask for it. She repeated her condolences and left.

Back at the lab, she met Frank and said immediately, "She lied. There was a picture there of Hector. She said he was a nephew, but…" She shook her head. "And she was seriously jumpy - she kept looking at the clock."

"I asked Alfredo outright if he had a son. I even showed him the birth record. He flatly denied it was anything to do with him. Common name, different spelling. I had nothing to hold him on. I _know_ he was lying. I think I'm going to put a watch on them."

"You think Hector's still around here?"

"I don't know. They're lying about something. And we think our shooter's injured, don't we? It's all guesswork though."

"If we could get a photo of Hector…" Calleigh was thinking aloud.

"And show H?"

She sighed. "I don't know, Frank… He's so ill. What will it do to him?"

"If he could ID him, we could go all out. We're working in the dark at the moment. Let me see what I can do about a picture. I won't go to H without you."

That evening, Calleigh stayed at home. It felt odd. She found she desperately missed her nightly visits to the hospital. She had to exert all her will-power to stop herself calling Eric. And, again, she slept badly.

As soon as she could, next morning, she talked to Eric.

"Before you ask, he's OK," her colleague said quickly.

"Really?"

"Really. The drain's been taken out, the fever's almost gone."

"Wonder why the lung went again…?"

Eric laughed. "Well, _they_ may not know, but _he_ does. Why do you think? H doing too much, as usual…?" He shook his head. "You know what he's like. He's supposed to have someone with him while he's walking about - he is that weak - but he doesn't. He said he decided to go to the bathroom on his own - can you blame him? - and felt faint, slipped, smacked that side of his chest on something… Says he knew what he'd done, but managed to get back to bed…"

"And didn't tell them…"

"That's H. But he's fine, honestly."

"What did you talk about?"

"Getting shot. I think what's upsetting him most is the gap in his memory. The case… Are you and Frank getting anywhere?"

"We might be." She recounted the events of the previous day. "Frank's trying to get a picture of Hector."

"To show H?"

"Yes. Will he cope with that, Eric?"

"I would think so. But it may not be the right man."

"It feels as if it is. The family are acting so suspiciously. They seem basically good people - and bad liars."

Later that day, Frank summoned her. He thrust a photo at her. "What do you think?"

It showed a skinny youth, looking embarrassed in suit and tie.

Frank added, "School Yearbook. He's only sixteen here."

"He can't have changed that much in three years."

"Give it a go?"

She nodded. And headed for the hospital.

Horatio was out of bed, in a wheelchair. He looked fairly bright and alert; little trace of the dejected man she had seen just two days earlier.

He held out a hand to her. "Hey, I missed you."

"Eric thought you might need… less emotional company…"

"Nothing wrong with emotion, Calleigh, in its place… Although… Look, the other day, I was so full of drugs, I hardly knew where I was… So I was probably talking nonsense."

"You weren't. But you were very down…"

"I've told them to stop giving me so much crap. Pain, I can take. I just don't like my brain being messed with. So ignore anything I said."

"All right." She hesitated. "Are you up to looking at another picture?"

"Sure."

She handed him the photograph of Hector. He frowned, stared at it, then closed his eyes briefly. He opened them and looked at the photo again, drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. He looked up at Calleigh. He handed the photo back to her, and said quietly, "Yes."

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	6. Chapter 6

AN EASY MAN TO LOVE

Chapter 6

Outside the hospital, Calleigh called Frank. "He ID'd him, Frank."

"Right!" The relish sounded in his voice. "We're on to it."

"Can I -" But the detective had already ended the call. "Thank you, Frank…" she murmured. "Keep me posted…"

She drove back to the lab. She dearly wanted to be involved in finding Hector Delgado, if indeed he was still in the area. But it was clearly Police Department work, and there was nothing she could do but wait. And work. She went on to another case and tried to concentrate.

Eric joined her. "He ID'd him. I heard. We've got him, Calleigh."

"Not yet, but we will. I can't feel we did much to reach this point. It was mostly Frank."

"Doesn't matter how we got there. Anyway, all our evidence will be needed to make the case. Do you feel better now?"

"I will, when he's in custody. Nineteen, with no record… I mean, _why?_"

"I bet it's a gang thing. Always is."

She neither saw nor heard from Frank for several hours, but then he came to find her. "Thought you'd want to know - we got him."

"Oh Frank, that's so good! Is he here? Can I sit in?"

The detective shook his head. "Unfortunately, it'll have to wait. He's in hospital."

She raised her eyebrows.

"Horatio put a bullet in his shoulder. Someone did a butcher's job digging it out. He's not in a good state, but he'll live."

"How did you find him?"

"Easy. We got a warrant for Alfredo's place. Tossed it. Got a bit heavy, and the mother caved. They'd got young Hector hidden a couple of blocks away. He is the son, of course." He shrugged. "Easy." He turned to go, then stopped. "Oh, I've got some stuff for you lab rats. Swabs, fingerprints… Pair of boots… A neat little Beretta in an ankle holster?"

Calleigh smiled. "We'll come and get it."

She and Eric followed him and returned with a whole box of items taken from Hector's refuge.

"Right," she said with satisfaction. "Now we can get matching."

"You should go and tell H," Eric said. "Go on. I'll do this stuff."

She found Horatio's room empty, stepped outside and stopped a nurse. "Where's my boss?"

The nurse chuckled. "On an expedition, I expect. Try down the corridor - there's a door to a sun lounge."

"Does he often do that? Disappear?"

"He's… how shall I put it? Independent? It generally means he's feeling better."

"And where's his policeman?"

The nurse raised her hands in a 'don't ask me' gesture.

Calleigh ran down the corridor and found him in the sun lounge, in his wheelchair, talking to his police guard - the older man she had met before. Horatio looked up and smiled. "Hello, you." He noted her expression, and looked mildly embarrassed. "Hey, just two old cops chewing the fat…" He turned to his guard. "Give us a few minutes, Bob."

The guard went out, closing the door.

Calleigh touched his shoulder. "Hello. How are you?"

"OK. No, I'm good. Two visits in one day… I'm honored…"

"I came to give you some news. We've got your shooter."

He was silent for a while, then said quietly. "I knew you would."

"It was Frank, and you…" She sat down in front of him. "I don't think I did a very good job."

"Calleigh… You can only work with the evidence that exists. If it's not there, it's not."

She nodded. "I found it difficult…"

"What exactly?" He cocked his head to one side, watching her. "Being in charge?"

"I don't know if it was that. I was all right at first… we did all the usual things, but, as the leads dried up… And you were so ill…"

"Calleigh, you're my deputy because I know you can do it."

"And why am I your proxy?"

"What?"

"I went to Human Resources. They said you'd nominated me as your proxy… Why me? Why not Eric?"

He sighed. "Because… you're stronger than him. Because, if someone had to make the sort of decision that might have been necessary… you could do it. He couldn't. His emotions would get in the way."

"For God's sake, H… You think he's more emotional than _me_?"

"I did."

"And now?" She suddenly found she couldn't look him in the eye. "H, I don't know how much you realised… but I went to pieces."

"I think you went into shock. I don't think you went to pieces."

"Horatio… You don't know the half of it…" she murmured.

"You think not? Calleigh…" His voice was soft. "Look at me…"

She raised her eyes to his again.

"Calleigh… I've been ill, but not completely out of my head… And you coming to see me so much has been an enormous comfort…"

She smiled ruefully. "I can hear a 'but' coming…"

"We've known each other a long time. We have feelings for each other - I'd never deny that… And, I've felt your feelings for me very strongly over the last weeks…"

"And do you have a problem with that?"

"I think I might have. I'm sorry." He reached out and took both her hands. "Listen to me, sweetheart… I want you to leave this for now. We will talk, I promise, but let me get better first. We both need to get over this, get back to some sort of normality, then see where we go. Will you trust me on this?"

She nodded. "I'll always trust you. I'm sorry if I've… overstepped the mark with you…"

"That isn't what I said."

They sat in silence for a while.

At last he said quietly. "All right?"

"Of course."

"So have you talked to Hector?"

She wrenched herself back to being professional. "No, he's in hospital. You shot him."

"Did I? I thought so. This hospital?"

"I don't know. I didn't ask. I hope not."

He shrugged. "Doesn't matter - I assume he's under guard. And so am I. So you don't know what happened with Jesus?"

"Not yet. I _will_ find out for you. You don't think he betrayed you, do you?"

"No, I don't. Unless I've completely lost my ability to judge people."

"I doubt that."

"So do I. And that includes my judgement of you. So go back and look after my lab for me. OK? And keep me up to date with what's happening."

Back at the lab, Eric picked up immediately on her discomfort.

"What happened? He's all right, isn't he?"

"He's fine. Getting better, I'd say."

"Pleased to hear about Hector, no doubt?"

"Surprisingly neutral. More worried about Jesus… And…" She hesitated.

"What? You and him?"

"Well, he hasn't been quite as unaware of me as I thought he had."

"Did he say something?"

"We mentioned it. I didn't get a declaration of undying love exactly." _Although I did, in a way…_

"Did you expect one? He'll be all right about it, Cal."

She shook her head, then changed the subject. "How's the evidence?"

"All holding up. DNA, that partial fingerprint, even the boot print. We've got him. That's really all we can do until we can interview him."

"It's sad, you know. A nineteen year old, throwing his life away, and for what? To impress a local street gang?"

Eric chuckled. "You sound like the boss. He has a tendency to see both sides."

"Well, I am the boss, for now. So I'd better redeem myself. Look, H is getting better, we've got his case made, near enough. So, take me through the other cases… 'Look after my lab', he said."

"Then let's do just that."

Horatio's progress was remarkable, and, this time, there were no setbacks. Within a day, he was back on his feet. Within the week, following what Calleigh understood to be a futile protest from the doctor, he was home. And the next day, he was in the lab.

He caught Calleigh by surprise. It was Eric who knocked on the door of the firearms lab, where she was working, and said quietly, "Visitor for you…"

In a true romantic novel cliché, she felt her heart skip a beat or two as Horatio walked in. He looked well, younger in his new-found slimness, dark suit, light blue shirt… Perhaps a little pale, perhaps moving a little carefully…

She wanted to hug him, but said, much more sharply than she meant, "Should you be here?"

"Hey, what sort of greeting is that? Come here…"

He held his arms out, and she walked into one of his full-body hugs.

"Really… should you be here?"

"I'm only doing a couple of hours a day for now… You're still in charge. But I'm fine, truly." He released her. "Have you got my badge and stuff?"

"Everything except your 9mm. I think it's probably at the bottom of the bay."

"No worries. I'll sort out a new one… Next week'll do. I'm not going into the field just yet."

She walked with him to the safe, and returned his property to him, watching as he clipped the badge to his belt.

"Better?"

He smiled. "You bet." Then his face became serious. "I gather Hector's downstairs… I've asked Frank to keep him on ice till tomorrow."

"You want to do the interview?"

"I at least want to listen to it. Before that though - will you run through everything with me? Everything you know about him, everything you've got in evidence. I can't go into an interview cold. Especially this one."

"OK. Come to the layout room - we'll go through it. Eric…?"

"I'll bring the evidence along."

The three of them spent an hour going over the case. It felt odd to go over a crime with its victim, but Horatio seemed completely calm about it. Inevitably, it tired him, and after they had finished, Calleigh walked him out to a waiting taxi.

"Do you need anything doing? At home?"

"No, thank you." He turned to face her. "I haven't forgotten, Calleigh. Let's get tomorrow over with first, mmm?"

Hector Delgado was brought to an interview room the next morning. Calleigh knew that Frank had offered the interview to Horatio, but her boss had said he'd 'listen in' and might join them later. Meanwhile, Frank and Calleigh faced the surly but somewhat frail-looking youth.

"How's your shoulder, Hector?" Frank asked, without a trace of sympathy in his voice.

"It's nothing. A scratch."

"Scratch that nearly killed you. Look, this interview is a formality. We know you did it. We've got evidence coming out of our ears. So let's keep it short."

Hector shrugged. "I've got nothing to say to you."

"You could tell us why," Calleigh said.

"Why? Kill a cop? Why not? It's easy, yes?"

"Tell me how Jesus was involved." She could almost sense Horatio listening from the next room.

"My cousin was stupid, careless. I hear him on the phone. Horatio-this. Horatio-that." He gave a sneering laugh. "I only know one Horatio. He was famous, your Lieutenant Horatio. So I ask Jesus, why he talk to police."

"And he told you he worked for us?"

Hector shrugged. "Maybe I was stupid one. I think Jesus is big gang member… For many years, I admire him. I could not believe… He thought I would not tell. He even thought I would work with him."

"Guess he was wrong," Frank murmured sourly. "So what happened?"

"He ask me to give him chance to call you. Call Horatio. Said he would stop. No more informant. I agree to this. But he doesn't just call. He arrange meeting."

"And the temptation was too much for you?"

"I ask Urvando… My friend. _My _lieutenant. He say Jesus cannot make meeting, I make it instead." He shrugged again.

"He told you to shoot a cop?"

"He did not need to tell me." The youth's confident smile faded suddenly. "He say Jesus would not be harmed."

"So what the hell did you think would happen?" Frank snapped. "They'd let an informant go free? You're a bit short on brains, lad." The detective shook his head and looked at Calleigh. "Anything you want to ask him?"

She looked at the boy who had nearly ended Horatio's life, at his faltering bravado, and said quietly, "No. We've got all we need, haven't we? What a waste…"

Hector's smile returned. "I did for your cop though, didn't I?" The young man's arrogance was fading, but had not quite disappeared. "Your Ho-rat-i-o…" He spat out each syllable.

The door opened. "Not quite."

Calleigh almost laughed out loud. She was aware that her boss had a penchant for theatrical entrances, but it had to be one of his best. Hector's mouth literally dropped open as he stared at the man he had left for dead in an alleyway.

Horatio smiled coldly. "We're hard to kill, Hector." He sat down, carefully, and Frank leant back, indicating that Horatio could take over the interview.

"So what about Jesus?"

The fight had gone out of the youth. "I didn't want him to die"

"Of course you did! You let those pathetic friends of yours know he was working for me, didn't you?"

"I thought…"

"You thought what? You'd be a big man in your little gang?" The scorn dripped from his voice.

"He betrayed us. Jesus…"

"Do you know he was trying to keep you _out _of the gang? Why do you think you haven't got a criminal record? Because twice - _twice _- your cousin persuaded me to give you a chance. He was ten times the man you'll ever be, Hector. You're a fool, son. And now you've got the rest of your life in a cell to think about it." He stood up. "You should have made sure I was dead, you know. Then it would only have been the needle. Easier, possibly…" He walked out, closing the door quietly behind him.

Frank signalled to the uniformed officer. "Take him away. Put him in solitary."

When they were alone, he looked at Calleigh. "That was some performance. H's, I mean…"

"That's H."

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	7. Chapter 7

AN EASY MAN TO LOVE

Chapter 7

It was almost a week later, and the lab was approaching something near normality. Calleigh stood behind Horatio at the firing range, watching as her boss fired shot after shot from the newly-requisitioned gun into the distant target.

When he stopped, and slipped off the ear-muffs, she pulled the target towards them and they examined it together.

"You're good. But you know that," she murmured.

He ignored the compliment. "It's got a slight right-hand bias… Still, they're all different."

He handed her the 9mm SIG Sauer to reload. It was the same model as his old one, but, as he said, they were all different.

"Not easy, getting used to a new weapon." She handed it back to him.

He holstered it and said, "I'll do some more tomorrow. I think I could probably hit the proverbial barn door now."

She chuckled. Horatio was an excellent shot and they both knew it.

"Would you like dinner tonight?"

It was so out of the blue, she took some seconds to reply. "Yes, I would."

"There's a new Italian I want to try - fairly casual. I'll pick you up…" He swung his jacket over his shoulder and walked out.

She murmured to herself. "Wow…"

It was a lovely restaurant and a good meal. They talked little during it, and stayed on general topics. She felt stupidly nervous with him, but she wasn't too sure he didn't feel the same. As they were served coffee, he said quietly, "Tell me what happened in the ambulance."

"You died," she said simply. "You couldn't breathe on your own. Your heart stopped. Didn't you know?"

"I didn't ask."

"They shocked you to restart it. That was a horrendous journey… Eric was escorting, clearing the traffic… And two paramedics were trying to keep you alive."

He nodded thoughtfully. "You were in the ambulance with me…"

"I was."

"Do you think it affected… how you felt about me?"

"I don't know." She tried to give him an honest answer. "It may have. You know I love you. Always have."

"As a friend… And me you… But I get the feeling things changed."

"It felt like that. I think… I fell in love with you… You were so ill, and I had this crazy compulsion to touch you." She smiled. "I didn't know how conscious you were of it."

"Mostly conscious."

"Did you mind?"

"Far from it. It gave me the most enormous comfort."

They were silent for a while. Then he said, "So where do we go from here?"

"I don't know."

"I'm not totally happy with work relationships…"

"I know the rules -"

"Oh, stuff the rules!" he said. "You know that wouldn't stop me doing anything. It's just that I think it can disrupt work; it can get very awkward if things don't work out."

"It doesn't have to," Calleigh said carefully. "Eric and I had a serious relationship…"

"I know that."

"I suppose you do. Well, we've more or less ended it, but we're still friends. We still work together."

"It's a bit different when one of us is the boss."

"Horatio, you know we can call a halt to all this. Now. We'll still be friends…"

"Ah, but I'm not sure I want to."

She smiled at his uncertainty. "Well, I can't decide that for you. You're not in love with me, are you?"

He sighed, and stayed silent for a while. "I don't think I ever fall in love."

"Never?"

"Not really. I think I'm capable of love, but I don't do the 'in love' thing… I don't think many men do."

"But you're a great 'toucher', you hug people, you hold their hands, you're incredibly… well, loving. You're a romantic."

He laughed. "Calleigh, I'm basically a homicide cop - we don't do romantic." Then he sighed. "I don't think I want to do this."

"Then we won't."

"Just like that?"

"If it's what you want." She reached across the table to take his hand. She loved his hands - long-fingered, sensitive - a piano-player's hands, or a lover's… Sexy even when curled round a gun… "You're a wonderful man, and an amazing boss. I would hate to make things awkward between us."

He nodded, and she reluctantly released his hand. "I'm sorry, Cal."

They finished their coffee in silence, then stood up, and walked out to the car. As he drove her home, he said quietly. "I haven't thanked you."

"For what?"

"For getting me through it."

"You did that yourself."

"I'm not sure I could have done it alone."

"You'll never be alone…"

They pulled up outside her apartment. He got out, helped her out, and walked her to the door. And kissed her. Not a passionate kiss, but long and very tender. She realised just how much she had wanted such a kiss. She ached to take his hand, take him inside, and take him to bed. Giving in to an impulse, she nipped his lower lip with her teeth.

Then she stood back, holding him at arm's length. "Sorry, H, I've always wanted to do that. And Horatio…" She met his eyes. "There's nothing in the rules about not changing your mind…"

_(A note from the author - several of you have said kind things about this one, and I appreciate it. I'm glad you enjoyed it. I know that some of you may not have the ending you wanted… I tried. She was ready to cross the line, but I just couldn't get him there… Sorry! I'll see you again - I'll no doubt be hurting the gorgeous Horatio, as usual.)_

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